I Am No Mockingjay
by ViolaCastalle
Summary: My idea of what could have happened a the end of and after The Hunger Games. I'm not going to spoil it and I suck at summaries so I guess you'll just have to read it.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! To my frequent readers, welcome back, and to my new readers, hello and welcome to my world! Some of you may know that I am currently also writing a Divergent fanfic at the moment but I was just watching Catching Fire again and had an idea and had to write it down so here you go! This won't be very much like my Harry Potter or Divergent fanfics in that it isn't going to be all loveydovey. However, it is like them because it is basically Canon with one thing changed.**

**I'm not going to give you any spoilers and say what the change is here, because it will all be contained in the first chapter. I'm just going to say that there will be no Catching Fire or Mockingjay spoilers, only Hunger Games book version ones and even they will be very mild.**

**So, here we go on my first ever Hunger Games fanfiction! (Just a warning, it could get quite dark, I don't know yet... I'll let you know of any chapters that are especially dark.)**

**I hope you enjoy it! Viola xx**

**(I don't own The Hunger Games or any of the characters in it. Unfortunately I only own those created by myself. All others belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins.)**

Chapter One – A Different End

I slide down from the roof of the Cornucopia, joining Peeta on the dewy green grass. I look at him and he smiles at me. I laugh. _We won! We actually won! _Before I know what is happening, Peeta has me in a body-crushing hug. I nuzzle my face into his shoulder and let the tears squeeze out where no one can see them. But then I pull away. Something's wrong. There's been no fireworks, no "Congratulations! announcement". There hasn't even been a hovercraft to collect us.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asks me, clearly confused.

"I don't know. We should be out of here by now." I explain.

Then comes the Capitol anthem and I sigh in relief. The disembodied voice of Claudius Templesmith booms across the entire arena, but what he says reaches straight to my core and shatters me from the inside out. "Congratulations to the joint Victors of the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games!" I smile, "Is what I would be saying if our earlier change to the rule book had not just been revoked. Only one of you can win, so who will it be? May the odds be ever in your favour." I cry out and fall to the ground, any thought to the pain ringing throughout my body thrown away like an old rag.

"What?! They expect us to kill each other?" Peeta shouts into the ether.

"Yes. Peeta, you have to kill me." I choke out.

Peeta falls to his knees next to me, "Katniss, no. I couldn't do that. I couldn't live knowing that you died in my place."

"Just do it. You're the better person! The one who used love to win."

"But – but – so did you..."

"No, Peeta. I _used _love to win..."

"What do you mean?" And I watch as the penny drops.

"Oh my God... You don't love me? You _never _loved me? After all we went through, all we did together, did that mean nothing to you?"

"No, Peeta -" the tears are falling down his cheeks, making streaks through the dirt and grime, "they did, they _do_, mean something, just not like _that_, I don't think..."

"You don't think? So you don't even know? Katniss, I knew you didn't love me as much as I loved you but, wow, this is an all new low..."

It hurts to say these things to Peeta, and to hear him say worse back, because I do love him. I do, just as a friend and maybe more but I figure the more he hates me the more likely he is to kill me... The logic works really.

"So do it, Peeta. Kill me."

"No, Katniss. I can't."

"Why not? You hate me! Look at how I've hurt you!"

"Yes, you've hurt me, and yes I hate you right now but as soon as that knife falls the hate would dissipate and all I would feel for the rest of my life is endless grief and guilt and love for you. Don't you see, Katniss? My love for you is real, so real, that it can never end, no matter how much you might hurt me, and living without you just isn't even a conceivable possibility. I just couldn't do it. So you have to kill me."

"Peeta, I can't do that."

"Why not?" He's angry. He's standing up and looming over me, shouting, commanding me to just end it, end this pain. But still I can't find it in me to do it.

"Because I can't walk out of here knowing that the better man lost and that I was the reason why. Peeta, I can't kill you."

He sinks back down and looks at me, really looks at me, past my eyes and into my being. He plants a soft kiss on my lips. He pulls away and I see that while his lips his hands were occupied. He has found his discarded knife in the grass. I reach to grab it but he pushes me back.

"We can't kill each other and one of us has to die. There's only one one other way."

"Peeta! NO!" I scream, renewed tears leaving more tracks down my face.

"Goodbye, Katniss. I love you forever and always."

He looks into my eyes as the knife plunges into his chest and he falls to the ground, staring at the fake sky and the fake clouds and the fake dawn, always staring, never blinking. BOOM.

I fall on top of him, my face hitting his silent, bloody chest.

Somewhere in the distance is the faint voice of Claudius Templesmith as he calls out "Congratulations Katniss Everdeen! The Victor of the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games!"

I scream into Peeta's chest and pound the grass with my fist. Then the sobs come, long heavy sobs filled with profanities and curses.

I vaguely hear a buzzing sound and look up, up, up to the distant blue. A hovercraft has dropped a ladder down to me and I reach up to it, grasping a hold of Peeta's wrist with my free hand. As soon as I touch the rung of the ladder I am frozen, unable to move. But that doesn't stop Peeta's arm slipping out of my grasp. The way I'm standing forces me to watch as Peeta's body descends further and further away until I can't see it anymore.

Another wave of grief washes over me as I realise that this is the last time I will ever see Peeta Mellark.


	2. Chapter 2 - Not Moving On

**Hi all, sorry about the MASSIVE wait. School happened and holidays happened and no internet for a while. But I bring good news! I got a new laptop yesterday which means I can now write and upload from the same device and there's less likely to be typing errors! To make for my poor amount of updates, I'm going to give you loads of chapters at once. Lucky you! Please don't forget to review, I love hearing your feedback. Also, I've recently posted a Divergent one-shot (which does contain Allegiant spoilers) if you fancy checking that out. But for now, on with I Am No Mockingjay! ~ Viola xx**

Chapter Two – Not Moving On

I wake up in my king-sized bed surrounded by a troop of overly fluffy pillows. Judging by the dim light penetrating thin designer curtains it's about eight am. I try to roll onto my side but am barricaded by an obtrusive pillow. I throw it away from the bed and watch as it hits a grotesque pink and flowery statuette and smashes it to smithereens.

When I lie back down, exhausted from the interlude, I press my face into an identical pillow and shake as the tears make their way from my eyes to soak the pillow. It amazes me that I have any tears left to cry. Every morning, evening and night since that day (two? weeks ago) has been like this: awake, angry, cry, get up, eat, throw it up, go to bed, cry, "sleep" through a few hours of nightmares, awake and repeat. Of course, there's a shower thrown in there every couple days but they usually result in me getting obscenely angry with the machine and breaking something. I break things a lot.

So, I'm lying in my pointlessly fluffy bed in my pointlessly over-filled bedroom in my pointlessly large house in the Victor's Village, crying about how pointless life is and how pointless death (the One Stupid Death) is when there's a knock on my door.

I stop short.

No one has made the mistake of knocking on my door since that time I screamed at mom to go away and may have launched a priceless vase (these stupid, pointless decorations that came with the house) at the door.

"Yes?" I say to the Door, my voice cracking. It hasn't been used for anything except sobs and shouts and screams in days.

"There's some Capitol people waiting for you." The Door replies in Prim's nervous voice.

"Tell them to go away."

"They said you have to see them. Katniss, it's the Victory Tour. You can't hide from them forever." The Door is gaining confidence.

"I can try!" And with that, I thrust my head under the stupid, ridiculous pillow armada and try to find sleep again.

Apparently sleep doesn't like being found because two minutes later I'm dimly aware of something on my back. This something is pressing and pulling, pressing and pulling. A foul stench reaches my nostrils an I pull the pillow off my head, blearily opening my eyes. When they focus, a round, squashed, furry monstrosity greets me.

"Get off, Buttercup," I groan, rolling over, forcing him off me. He meows at me with contempt before running out the door.

Out the door.

Someone's opened my door, despite the lock.

I figure it'll be easier to go downstairs and tell the Capitol freaks that I'm not going, that I have nothing to celebrate, so I slowly make the torturous climb out from under my duvet sanctuary.

When I get downstairs I find Effie Trinket, my Games stylist – Cinna, and his assistants – Octavia, Flavius and Venia. On closer inspection I also find Haymitch - passed out on the couch. Those who are conscious are scattered on the various armchairs and couches, each clutching a vintage style teacup.

"There she is! My – umm – beautiful... Victor!" Effie exclaims, feigning delight at my appearance.

I know she's disgusted because I caught sight of myself in a mirror on my way downstairs and I am too. My hair is a bush around my pale, splotchy face. My eyes are so red and puffy I can barely see out of them and the less said about my eyebrows the better. Octavia, Flavius and Venia look up at me and all battle to hide their disgust. Every one of them fails. Only Cinna succeeds in convincing me that he's happy to see me. He gets up and pulls me into a tight hug. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through," he says into my shoulder, "but we'll have you right as rain in no time."

I nod and try to blink back the tears.

He gives me a quick, comforting squeeze before leaving me to go and talk to the prep team.

Now it's Effie's turn. She walks to me cautiously and smiles. "Cinna's right," she says in her sing-song Everything's Going To Be Alright voice, "you've been through a lot, you're bound to look a bit... a bit..."

"Tired." Cinna offers.

"Dead." I improve.

"Under the weather." Effie decides. She thinks I look "under the weather". I fight to hold back my snigger.

"Okay! We have a _lot_ to sort out so Katniss, why don't you have a seat," she gestures to one of the chairs in _my_ living room, "and a cup of tea," she thrusts one of _my_ teacups at me, as if it's hers to give away, "and we can discuss to tactics."

I sit down in the proffered armchair and gaze at the tea in my cup. The thought of drinking it makes me want to throw up the breakfast I haven't eaten, so I put it down on the little table next to me.

"So first things first," Effie begins. She's still standing where I left her, looking at us as if we are her class and she our teacher, "we need to show Katniss what she will wear tonight."

"I thought I'd wait until she's wearing it so -" Cinna starts.

"Tonight? What's happening tonight?" I interrupt.

"The cameras! The interview with Caesar! The start of the Victory Tour!" Effie exclaims, shocked that I would even dare to think such a ridiculously stupid question.

My stomach drops. That means I have to be seen which means I have to smile and look happy. It also means that my prep team will-

"Octavia! Flavius! Venia! You'd best get started! There's... umm... a _lot_ to do!"


	3. Chapter 3 - Preparing For Battle

**Oh look! Another one! (I own nothing.)**

Chapter Three – Preparing For Battle

My body tingles as hair after hair after hair is cruelly torn from its follicle. I have been de-haired on my arms, legs, underarms, eyebrows and places I don't even want to think about.

Pleased with their torture thus far, my prep team have moved onto washing me and scrubbing me, removing even the smallest bit of grime that might be lurking in any nooks and crannies.

Throughout the whole process I remain silent, not even gasping in pain, as I stare straight ahead at whatever is in the direction I'm facing.

I can hear the three Capitol residents gossiping and nattering but I can't hear what they're saying. The only room in my head is occupied with thoughts of how I'm being prepared for another Hunger Games but this time it's me against the rest of Panem. The weapons are their cheers (and boos) and their gifts and plaques and flowers. Their parties and hospitality against my fake smiles and fake speeches and fake happiness and general fakeness.

And I have this overwhelming dread that I'm going to win and that I'll become some kind of idol for all of Panem. The girl who suffered inconceivable loss to win the Hunger Games. The girl who _was_ on fire.

Some of the prep team's conversation worms its way into my hearing.

"Everyone's wearing your Mockingjay pin."

"I have a headdress with it on."

"I have a dress that's designed to look like it."

"Well I'm dyeing my hair to the same colour."

And my heart drops. I've already started winning. The people of the Capitol are looking up to me. But if that's true, the people of the Districts are going to hate me.


End file.
